Someone wants Lord Embrey
dead. Will the method of execution be by poison, or injection, or... potato??

When personal fitness
trainer Ms. Marty Jackson accepts an assignment in England, romance is the
furthest thing on her mind. Fate has other ideas in the form of a handsome
British barrister. But when a body is found in the library, can Marty convince
her new-found love of her innocence when all evidence points in her direction?

Scene Set-Up:

Newly arrived in England,
Marty Jackson has decided not to join her client, Lord Embrey, for dinner. His
son, Gregory Gresham, however is most insistent that she dine with them.

Excerpt:

Belatedly making sure her
short, cotton robe covered what it was supposed to, Marty took a step back from
Gresham. No good, though. His masculine after-shave drifted toward her and
teased her tired senses. “What do you mean by coming into my room like this? I
could’ve been... sleeping.”

Fortunately she changed her
word choice from “naked” to “sleeping.” Dangerous suggestion around someone who
looked as devastating as he did.

Gresham’s smile conveyed his
disbelief. “At eight o’clock? I hardly think so.” He clasped his hands behind
his back and took a cramped stroll around the room. “I’m here to bring you
downstairs.”

Although she should have
thrown him out, she stood rooted to the floor. She didn’t even flinch when he
picked up her special paperweight, but she would’ve been lying if she didn’t
admit her fingers itched to grab it out of his hands.

Then, for some reason, the
four poster bed seemed to attract him. He walked over to it and began pawing
through her pile of recently discarded clothing. “I was under the impression
that Americans understood English, Ms. Jackson. Dinner, I remember saying, is
at eight. You are keeping everyone from their food.”

Only when he uncovered her
bra did her motionless state vanish. “Do you mind?” She quickly tugged on his
arm, and pulled him away from the bed... and the intimate articles.

He smiled again, revealing
perfect white teeth. This time her heart fluttered in such a peculiar way. “I,
ah, told Lottie I wouldn’t be joining you.”

“You have no choice. Come.
It is late.”

Annoyance crept into her
tone. She planted her hands on her hips. “Listen, I appreciate the offer but
I’m tired and I don’t feel like eating.”

The top of her robe gaped
open a little. Naturally his gaze took in the sight. Just collarbones, but his
smile deepened. She grabbed at the material. The beast!

Then he did the unexpected.
He bent down to stare directly into her eyes. Waves of his masculine, musky
after-shave shook Marty to her very core. His sparkling grey eyes mesmerized
her, and once again, she couldn’t have moved if her life depended on it. She
gulped down hard. Embarrassingly enough, her nipples hardened. Good grief, this
power he had over her was unfair but there was no way she could protest.

“Ms. Jackson,” Gresham
murmured, “you will accompany me to dinner, undressed as you are, or
otherwise.” He slowly, torturously, skimmed the side of her cheek with two of
his fingers.

When she shivered, he broke
contact and shrugged. “Make no mistake about it. Lord Embrey wishes to meet you
tonight, and I’ll not have him disappointed.”

She was left breathless.
Never in all her born days had anyone affected her to this degree. She didn’t even
know the man, didn’t even like him, but one touch from him and she was like
Jell-O.

“Ah, okay.” She massaged the
bridge of her nose. Was this day ever going to end? “Give me a minute and I’ll
get dressed.”

“Agreed.”

She waited but he didn’t
leave the room. Starting to lift her hands to her hips again, she then
remembered about the robe gaping open. “Obviously I can’t change with you
here.” Her voice practically dripped with sarcasm.

“No?” Gresham raised a dark
eyebrow. “A pity.” He purposefully walked to the door, then turned around. “You
said a minute, so that’s when I’ll expect you to be done. And, by the way,
there’s no sense locking the door.”

He patted the pocket on the
left side of his breast. “I have the key.”